


And Eat it, Too

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is helping Lincoln and Octavia plan their wedding but the brother of the bride is making the wedding planning more difficult than it needs to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Eat it, Too

All things considered, Clarke is really glad there’s cake.

Octavia and Lincoln both seem overwhelmed by the amount of planning to be done, and Clarke sympathizes. They just want to be married to each other, and instead they get a mile-long list of decisions to be made and six months to stress about it. Possibly longer, if they don’t book the venue soon, Clarke realizes, and makes a mental note. Bellamy doesn’t appear overwhelmed so much as fed up with wedding talk, and Clarke is fed up with Bellamy, so when Raven brings another slice of cake for them to taste, Clarke appreciates the efficiency of a coping mechanism built into the wedding planning.

They’re sitting in the bakery Wells and Raven opened together in their quest to take over the specialty cake niche. Raven gets to put her engineering degree to good use crafting Wells’s delicacies into structures that defy Clarke’s limited understanding of physics. It’s not what Clarke pictured either of them doing, but as the one who made Cake Boss into a drinking game, she takes full credit.

“Okay, how about the wedding party?” Clarke prompts. She just helped her mom go through all of this about a year ago, so she’s been taking point on the planning process. Nobody is objecting. Nobody else wants the job. “That should be pretty simple, right?”

“I think I’ve actually got it figured out,” Octavia says, brightening a little. Clarke isn’t sure whether it’s due to the red velvet cake or the prospect of actually crossing something off the list. “Clarke can be Lincoln’s maid of honor and Bell will be my best man.”

“Works for me,” Lincoln says, leaning back in his chair. It kind of makes sense, she reasons. They met when he started dating Octavia, and then she got him a job working with her in the restoration department at the art museum. They bonded quickly over being estranged from their families and how much they hate their coworkers (which had played no small part in Clarke’s eagerness to get him hired). Clarke considers Lincoln one of her best friends, but didn’t think he’d go so far as to make her his maid of honor, much less the only member on his side of the wedding party. She even gets a little choked up.

“If I’m your best man, then who’s walking you down the aisle?” Bellamy protests. His slice is mostly untouched, and Clarke is starting to suspect his bad attitude is the result.

“Indra would do it,” Octavia suggests.

“Indra is your  _ boss _ .” While this is true, Clarke thinks it’s a pretty weak argument. Indra is Octavia’s boss now, but growing up, she was the Blake’s social worker. Octavia told Clarke once that Indra was the most consistent adult in her life when she was a child, and Clarke knows that Octavia idolizes Indra, professionally and personally. She can see why Bellamy is objecting. The older sibling is supposed to be the object of hero-worship.

“Then I can walk myself down the aisle,” Octavia scowls at her brother. “I’ll give myself away. Why are you making this so difficult, Bellamy?” Bellamy and Clarke both wince at the use of his full name. Octavia stands and grabs the slice of cake in front of her. “I’m leaving before I feel like uninviting you from the wedding altogether. Next time we sacrifice our precious weekend time to work on the planning, it would be great if you could be just a little bit happy for me.”

She storms out and Lincoln clears his throat.

“I like the strawberry or the double chocolate,” he says, following his bride out the door.

Clarke watches them drive away before turning on Bellamy.

“What is your problem?” She demands, pinching him for good measure. She and Bellamy know each other, but only as significant people in Octavia’s life. They’ve never been friends, and Clarke always took Octavia’s side in college when Bellamy was being overprotective or overbearing. Like he is now.

“I always kind of dreaded Octavia getting married, but I never thought the wedding planning would be the worst part,” he says, with less heat and more regret than she expected. She considers him for a moment and then slides him a piece of chocolate cake.

“So this,” she says, gesturing to his face, which is still vaguely frowning, “isn’t because of Lincoln?”

“What?” He sounds truly bewildered, even speaking around the cake. “No.”

“Because if it is, I’m obligated as his maid of honor to kick your ass.”

“It’s really not,” he insists. “I mean, part of the reason I used to dread it was because I didn’t think anyone would ever be good enough for her. And no one is, but Lincoln is– I like him.”

“And he loves her. A lot.”

“She could do worse,” he agrees, taking another, bigger, bite of cake. “And it’s not the money, either. Raven and Wells are giving them a great deal on the dessert, Lincoln is getting an employee discount on the museum, and I’ve been saving for a while…”

“So what’s the problem?” Clarke asks again, nicer this time. He considers her for a moment and she tries her hardest to look trustworthy.

“My last girlfriend and I broke up almost two years ago,” he admits. “Octavia was my whole life for so long, and it’s just hitting me that when she gets married, she’ll have a new family of her own, and I’ll be super lame and alone.” Clarke is quiet and Bellamy drops her gaze. She’s surprised he shared this with her, but she figures if his other options were Miller, Murphy, or Octavia, she’d probably rather tell herself, too. The only problem is, she doesn’t know quite what to say.

“You won’t be alone,” she tells him, finally. “Lincoln and Octavia already live together. It’s a huge change, but at the same time, not that much is changing. You’ll still see her.”

“I know,” he says, still looking down at his plate. “I’m just being an idiot. I’ll apologize. Maybe I’ll even marry Wells, just so he can make me this cake every day for the rest of my life.”

“As far as life plans go, that’s not a bad one,” Clarke says agreeably, standing and grabbing her purse. “I’m going to go tell him we’re leaving, and then you and I are getting a drink.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” he says, amused.

“Great, so it won’t be crowded. You can cry about how alone you are, and I’ll tell you about my genuinely terrible breakups, and then you’ll feel better.”

“It sounds like you’ve got this all figured out.”

* * *

The next morning, Clarke wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar body curled behind her. When she thinks back, she recalls having a few drinks with Bellamy, telling him about Finn and Lexa as promised, and the two of them making out before he invited her home with him. She’s not all that surprised, if she’s honest with herself. Even when she thought Bellamy was being ridiculous about Octavia, she always thought he was a pretty good guy underneath it all. She’d admired his commitment to doing what he thought was right by his sister. And also his hands, and his hair, and his jaw...

His arm starts to tighten around her waist, but she feels him stiffen abruptly as he comes to the same realizations about the night before. She turns to face him, his arm still draped loosely over her side.

“Morning.” His voice, gruff from sleep, sends shivers down her spine and she smiles reflexively.

“I guess that’s one way to cure loneliness,” she says, tracing the freckles across his shoulder with one finger. The contrast of her paleness against his tan skin is mesmerizing.

“That wasn’t why– I mean, I didn’t–”

“I know,” she smiles. “One-time thing?”

He’s quiet for a moment and his hand stills where she hadn’t even realized he was stroking her back.

“If you want,” he says, tentative. “But I really wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime.”

“Getting drunk and sleeping together?” She teases.

“I wasn’t drunk. Were you drunk?” 

“No.”

“Cool,” he says, exhaling in relief. “We can get drunk first if you want to. Or we could get dinner. Or just sex. Or none of those things. Whatever you want.”

She smiles and presses her lips to his chest. He’s got a really nice chest, and it’s right there in front of her. Very distracting.

“We can get dinner,” she tells him, then squeals when he rolls them over to kiss her soundly.

When they emerge from his room to scour for some breakfast, she’s not surprised to see Monty sitting on the couch, playing video games. Bellamy had mentioned that he’d become a regular fixture at his and Miller’s apartment since they started dating.

“I can’t decide whether Best Friend’s Older Brother or Maid of Honor/Best Man is more cliche,” he says, and Bellamy gives him a supremely unimpressed look. It’s only a shadow of the same look he gives Miller when he comes in from the bathroom a few minutes later and says, “How exactly does a cake tasting turn into a hookup?”

“Skill,” Clarke chirps, leaning into Bellamy’s side. “And mild patheticness.”

* * *

Bellamy apologizes to Octavia and she decides he can make it up to her by coming with them to look at flowers. Clarke and Lincoln let the siblings pull ahead of them as they walk through the florist’s shop so Bellamy can give her a more in-depth explanation.

“How are you doing?” She asks her friend. “You seemed a little stressed last week.”

“Well, last week I thought Bellamy hated me.”

“Fair point. I was totally ready to defend your honor after you guys left, but it turned out I didn’t need to.”

“I would have liked to see that,” Lincoln grins, then sobers quickly. “If you’d rather be on Octavia’s side of the wedding party, I can maybe talk Nyko into–”

“No way,” Clarke interrupts, cutting him off. “I’m your maid of honor and that’s the end of it. I love you both, I don’t care whose side I’m on. Besides, I look way better than Nyko in a dress.”

“That’s definitely true,” he laughs. 

A comfortable silence falls between them as they take in the rows and rows of flowers. It’s something Clarke has grown used to in her friendship with Lincoln. She’s even come to enjoy the ability to hang out with someone without the pressure to make constant conversation. It also means that she can hear clearly when Octavia says, “This isn’t some kind of delayed-action rebound, right? You and Clarke aren’t– whatever you are– just out of loneliness?”

Clarke holds her breath, staring resolutely at some roses while Lincoln looks down at her in curiosity.

“Not  _ just _ ,” Bellamy tells her, and Clarke remembers to exhale. “Yeah, maybe that’s what made her take pity on me, but I do like her. A lot.”

“Good. Don’t screw it up.”

After the florist, they head to lunch so Octavia and Lincoln can sort through their music and try to pick some songs. Bellamy puts his hand on Clarke’s knee under the table and she leans over to speak softly.

“I’m in this wedding in a few months, and I need a date. It should be pretty fun. All our friends will be there, and so far we’ve got flowers and cake. You in?”

“Well,” he says, pretending to think it over. “As long as there’s cake.”


End file.
